The mustard fields along the road were in riotous golden bloom as we sped past on a motorcycle to the village of Karjahi in Dang district. It was a crisp autumn afternoon six years ago, and I was riding pillion behind Laudhan Chaudhary with the wind in my face.&nbsp; I was researching the history of feminism in Nepal for the Feminist Memory Project of Nepal Picture Library when I first came across the Karjahi Movement, a struggle for land rights led by Tharu women of this valley in the Inner Tarai of western Nepal.&nbsp; Laudhan had driven all the way down to Ghorahi to pick me up, and we finally pulled up in the densely packed Tharu settlement of Karjahi. A 15-year-old girl was bathing at a public tap. She was completely at ease with herself in a thin, water-soaked petticoat tied around her waist, her hands folded over her breasts. Nearby, a group of teenage boys were boisterously playing cards. Off to one side, a young man was engrossed in a book. He was Laudhan’s eldest son, preparing for his overseer exam. Laudhan left his bike in the yard of his small red mud-plastered house with cow dung patties drying along the walls. As soon as she saw that a guest had arrived, Laudhan’s wife Ashma got busy in the kitchen.&nbsp; Ashma is a familiar name among the women of Karjahi. She was nearly nominated to be a member of the federal parliament in Kathmandu.&nbsp; “Her name was proposed, but she wasn’t nominated by the party,” another woman helping in the kitchen explained, slicing okra with a dull, patinaed chulesi.&nbsp; Laudhan and Ashma had invited to their home other women involved in the Karjahi Movement for land rights to talk about their struggle back in 1980.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023122111124_be55f824019cd114a1b1ed36b270fd7511a821594ed91440b2a37963a94d0438.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2023122111124_be55f824019cd114a1b1ed36b270fd7511a821594ed91440b2a37963a94d0438" data-rendition-name="original" width="1909" height="1409" loading="lazy" alt="Tharu women from Karjahi"> </figure>  Patharkali Tharu peasants in Dang were up in arms against jamindar landowners at the time. Leading the women was Patharkali Chaudhary, and there she was 44 years later, clad in a blue sari, sitting on a stool recalling the evening that a dozen policemen came to arrest her. “I got up from my bed,” she said, leaping up from her stool to demonstrate. She shouted at the police, “Get out of my way, if you are real men” and rushed into her niece Ashma’s room.&nbsp; The police did not dare enter, but shouted from the courtyard: “Open the door, or we’re going to shoot.” Patharkali and her niece were also best friends, and they refused to be intimidated. Instead, she shouted back, “Hey you government dogs, shoot this poor woman in the chest if you dare. Otherwise drop your guns now.” &nbsp; Patharkali picked up a heavy stick and told Ashma to set their two enormous dogs, Nangi and Uduwa, on the police. The snarling dogs ran outside, barking and chased away the police and landowners from the courtyard. Patharkali swung her stick, hitting two nearest policemen and breaking the finger of one of them who had destroyed her plough. “It was at that time that the police gave me the nickname Indira Gandhi because I was supposed to be as fearless as the Indian prime minister,” Patharkali recalls, smiling. “Imagine how much braver I would have been if I had studied more. I would have put those thieves in their right place.”&nbsp; Dozens of police came to the house every day for the next week, and every time, Patharkali chased them away. She had not eaten for several days, but nothing could weaken her resolve. However, police arrested Patharkali’s brother, Thaggu Chaudhary, and she remembers going to the station in Fachakpur to visit him in jail every week. The policeman whom she had beaten, were overheard telling the others: “That’s Indira Gandhi. Let her in.”&nbsp; Even though the police all used her nickname, Patharkali herself did not even know at the time who Indira Gandhi was.&nbsp; “I would threaten to stab and kill them for breaking our plough, no wonder they gave me that name,” she says. “We fought for our rights, and because we fought we got our land back.” Ashma&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023122111120_326263e3c7d018e4c6f8389e357ff47451cbbdd6fabb86d0954495f41c49af5d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023122111120_326263e3c7d018e4c6f8389e357ff47451cbbdd6fabb86d0954495f41c49af5d" data-rendition-name="original" width="587" height="822" loading="lazy" alt="Ashma Chaudhary"> <figcaption>Ashma ChaudharyAsma Chaudhary/Nepal Picture Library</figcaption> </figure>  Patharkali’s niece Ashma remembers that at first the Tharu peasants were afraid of the jamindar who owned the land they tilled.&nbsp; The Tharu worked in the fields all year as sharecroppers but after giving away the harvest there was not enough to feed their families. The farmers knew the importance of land, and valued the soil that gave them sustenance.&nbsp; During the Karjahi Movement, Tharu women including Patharkali and Ashma took part in a protest march to Bijauri, 29km away from where the jamindar families lived.&nbsp; Clashes between police and Tharu farmers continued for weeks in Karjahi. The police would come at night and ransack their homes, fling cooked food into the courtyard and steal the best utensils.&nbsp; In one raid, police arrested Ashma’s uncle Premlal Chaudhary and her brother Ram Prasad Chaudhary. The next day, Ashma went to the police station in Sukuwari village and shouted, “Why did you arrest my elderly uncle who is living his last days?” The jamindar would call policemen ‘sir’, but Ashma had the audacity to shout curses at them. She smiles as she recalls her boldness.&nbsp; “Premlal Uncle and Ramprasad Bhai were handcuffed in the police station,” says Ashma, recalling how the women including Patharkali, Keula, Shanti, Shyamkala, Suskala and Lakshmi (pictured) all yelled at the policemen: “Will you let our people go or will you fight us?”&nbsp; And for good measure, Ashma shouted: “Release my uncle or I will come in and kill you with my bare hands.”&nbsp; The next day there was mediation between the women of Karjahi with the Chief District Officer (CDO) of Dang. The police admitted to stealing household items and food from the Tharu homes. Ashma complained that he had been arrested without a warrant and beaten up. The police were finally found to have been at fault. The officers apologised and agreed to release their relatives. “I was a 25-year-old woman and the police let my uncle go because I threatened them,” says Ashma, now 69. “Later, the police were heard complaining that they had to deal with very powerful women.”&nbsp; Ashma is convinced that it was their resistance that allowed the Tharu in Dang to finally get to till their own land.&nbsp; “If I had to do it all over again, I would,” she says, “I’m still strong. If I have to fight again, I will fight.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023122111128_1bb40cff68b63f6f82c535322542523eaf316993652d71cd214f2b2b00f0dfc7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2023122111128_1bb40cff68b63f6f82c535322542523eaf316993652d71cd214f2b2b00f0dfc7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2310" height="1650" loading="lazy" alt="Tharu women from karjahi"> </figure>  Nanachi Nanachi could tell if someone was from a Pahadi hill caste just by smelling them. Or, to be more exact, not smelling them. &nbsp;&nbsp; “We who plough the soil and grow crops, we smell of sweat,” Nanachi explains. “Our bodies all have that odour. Those who do not work on the land do not smell. And those of us who till the soil can also shed blood for our land.” Netralal Paudyal, a Communist leader from Dang, used to tell the farmers of the village to rise up against feudalism. This also inspired the women of Karjahi to fight injustice. But the landowners and the state apparatus were too powerful and some had started losing hope.&nbsp; So, Nanachi started writing and singing songs to build solidarity and give the struggle a boost. Keula Chaudhary played the madal, Indira Chaudhary danced. They sang as they guarded the village from sentry posts for months. The song they sang was: कहा रे उठी जागी किसान दाजु भाइ जबसम्म रहल दि सामन्तीले दुख दिइ उठ जनता उठ जिमिन्दार के विरोध गर्न उठ Where did you stand up, farmer brothers, When they started giving you pain?&nbsp; Rise up, people, resist the landlords. Nirmala, Sita Kumari, Keula&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023122111124_5b63f3156b05697e860cb1a78f79062adba6ba42b3ed72ee2a9d4e4d0805a755.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2023122111124_5b63f3156b05697e860cb1a78f79062adba6ba42b3ed72ee2a9d4e4d0805a755" data-rendition-name="original" width="702" height="865" loading="lazy" alt="Sitakumari"> <figcaption>Sitakumari Chaudhary</figcaption> </figure>  Nirmala Chaudhary still remembers the third day of Karjahi Movement when Nirmala and other women were wounded in attacks by the jamindar’s supporters. Nirmala and some of her friends rushed to the nearby villages to plead for help. Nirmala was carrying her child on her back. Sakhi, Belkeshari and Nirmala called upon other women to join the defence. In Karjahi, three or four households belonged to the jamindar. They reached one landowner’s house and recovered all the ploughs and spades that had been stolen from them, and returned home. Nirmala went to the home of one jamindar Ran Bahadur Pachai in Khirite village, climbed up the stairs, grabbed the jamindar’s shot gun, loaded the bullet and fired it. The inhabitants of the landlord’s household all fled.&nbsp; “We knew there was going to be a battle as the jamindar’s forces regrouped,” recalls Sita Kumari Chaudhary, another protester. “We were ready, all of us women fighters. The landlords were shocked that we women were ready to resist. We had no fear at all. We were fighting for our existence.” In the melee that followed, Keula Chaudhary wrested a rifle off the hands of a policeman who was assaulting her and hit him across the face.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023122111124_7a67ccc425be8fe3bdb22988d385c9392dae939ca55c808bd7748418b385067b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2023122111124_7a67ccc425be8fe3bdb22988d385c9392dae939ca55c808bd7748418b385067b" data-rendition-name="original" width="787" height="897" loading="lazy" alt="Keula Chaudhary"> <figcaption>Keula Chaudhary</figcaption> </figure>  Not the marrying kind The memories of struggle from more than four decades ago are still fresh in the minds of the women of Karjahi. As they recalled incidents and anecdotes, the women would complete each other’s sentences. And the alcohol helped. Laudhan’s wife Ashma brought raksi in steel cups and passed them around to the women. They downed the rice spirit in a single gulp. Then, it was Ashma’s turn to continue her story. Ashma was not interested in marrying, and everyone in the village was asking “Why are you not married yet?” Laudhan is the son of Ashma’s maternal uncle. But when the queries about marriage became too insistent and unbearable, Laudhan finally gave up and said, “All right, then, I will marry my cousin.” The uncle’s son and aunt’s daughter therefore became husband and wife. Laudhan and Ashma, like all couples, sometimes have arguments. When that happens, Ashma usually tells her husband, “You are my little brother, behave yourself and listen to me.” And that is how they settle their differences.&nbsp; And unlike other couples, Ashma never had to show Laudhan special respect. “This is the secret of most marriages where women are younger and men are older,” she said. On the other hand, Patharkali (aka Indira Gandhi) got married after her sick mother pressured her into it. But the relationship did not last. Patharkali returned to her maternal home after a year. “I broke a policeman’s arm,” Patharkali says, “do you think I would stand for an abusive husband? There was no way he could be married to a woman like me. It just wouldn’t last.”&nbsp; She felt like a servant in her in-law’s home. And after she left her husband, Patharkali has been in control of her own destiny, a free bird. Nepali women have risen up against injustice and oppression throughout history, but their contribution is less well documented. The stories and experiences of the rebel women of Karjahi are chronicled in the book The Public Life of Women: A Feminist Memory Project with pictures. The women who rose up in the Karjahi Movement do not identify themselves as feminists. They prefer the term ‘existentialist’. They say, “We are existentialists. We fought for our own existence, and the existence of our soil.”&nbsp; There are women in Kathmandu who are international feminists, and one of them when asked about her work replied, “Google me.”&nbsp; But the Tharu women of Dang and other women struggling anonymously every day for their rights are the real feminists of this land. They are not interested in fame or publicity, that is not why they are fighting. Their stories are undocumented and unheard, and you cannot find them in a Google search. &nbsp;&nbsp; Nisha Rai is a journalist interested in Gender Equality &amp; Social Inclusion, Federalism and Health &amp; Education. She was formerly with BBC Media Action. The Public Life of Women: A Feminist Memory Project In English and Nepali photo.circle Nepal Picture Library, 2023 558 pages Rs1,200 (Nepal); &nbsp;INR1,500 (South Asia); &nbsp; $35 (Rest of the World) ISBN 9789937141123

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The Karjahi Movement

India and Pakistan are twins separated at birth. Tensions between them have been at a hair trigger ever since independence and has erupted into full scale conflict at least four times in the past 80 years.
The 22 April terrorist attack in Kashmir that killed 25 Indian tourists and a Nepali citizen, threatens to escalate tension between the two nuclear-armed nations. India has squarely blamed Pakistan for the attacks, and Prime Minister Narendra Modi has given his military “operational freedom” to respond. Pakistan has said it has credible intelligence of an Indian military strike and its officials have promised a “full spectrum” response — a code for a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/thinking-the-thinkable">nuclear retaliation</a>.
For Nepal, the killing of its national in the Pahalgam attack comes as another stark reminder that in conflicts from Afghanistan to Iraq, from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/how-to-agree-an-armistice-in-ukraine">Ukraine</a> to Israel, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/10-nepalis-from-one-town-fighting-in-ukraine">Nepalis are getting caught in the crossfire</a>. The last time full-scale fighting broke out between <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/peacemongers-at-india-pakistan-border">India and Pakistan</a> on Kargil in 1999, at least 22<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/india-s-trial-by-fire-for-soldiers-from-nepal?%27%5C%22="> Nepalis fighting for the Indian Army</a> were killed in action.
Three of Nepal’s immediate neighbours (China, India, Pakistan) have nuclear weapons, and they do not have good relations. With China supplying weapons, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/war-and-warming">missile technology</a> and other support to Pakistan, this triangular friction could set off a regional conflagration.&nbsp;
<a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s43016-022-00573-0" target="_blank">Research at Rutgers University</a> has calculated that even a week-long tactical nuclear exchange between India and Pakistan would throw up so much smoke and debris into the atmosphere that it would block out the sun for years, and lead to a collapse of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/grow-nourish-sustain-together-world-food-day">global food system</a>. This does not take into account the radioactive fallout that prevailing winds would blow up to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lives-on-the-line-in-the-himalaya">the Himalaya</a>, contaminating glaciers that are the sources of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-what-is-left-of-himalayan-rivers">Asia’s main rivers</a>.
The impact of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-breakdown-linked-to-thame-flood">climate breakdown </a>on High Asia was already ringing alarm bells about its <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/himalayan-icecap-melting-faster-than-thought">shrinking ice cap</a> reducing the dry season flow of water downstream. Water was going to be the next strategic commodity, geopolitical experts warned, and the next wars in Asia would be over water.
That water war is already happening. India retaliated to the Kashmir attack by suspending the <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/24/world/asia/india-pakistan-indus-waters-treaty.html" target="_blank">Indus Waters Treaty</a> of 1960 mediated by the World Bank that has withstood at least three wars between India and Pakistan. The treaty gives India control over the three eastern tributaries of the Indus (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beas_River" target="_blank">Beas</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ravi_River" target="_blank">Ravi</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sutlej" target="_blank">Sutlej</a>), while Pakistan got water from the Indus and two of its western tributaries (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indus_River" target="_blank">Indus</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chenab_River" target="_blank">Chenab</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jhelum_River" target="_blank">Jhelum</a>.
Pakistan was assured of 70% of the annual flow, and India could use a reasonable amount of water for<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15231"> irrigation and hydropower</a>. &nbsp;Within days of its threat, India stopped water flowing down to Pakistan from the Chenab river and is reportedly preparing to do the same on the Jhelum.
The sabre-rattling has reached a crescendo. Besides threats and counter-threats there are also symbolic drills, with the Indian Air Force practicing landing on an expressway in Uttar Pradesh by its Rafale, Su-30 and Jaguar fighter jets to demonstrate ‘operational readiness’. In response Pakistan test-fired its Abdali ballistic missile that can carry a nuclear warhead and has a range of 450km.&nbsp;
The danger is that with ultra-nationalist rhetoric and the beating the war drums by both sides, India’s government and Pakistan’s military may have to ‘do something’ to appease domestic public opinion. But any tactical strike, an artillery exchange, or territorial incursion could quickly escalate out of control.
Expecting an Indian retaliation for the Pahalgam killings, Pakistan is using<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/interfaith-collaboration-for-nuclear-disarmament"> nuclear deterrence </a>and warning of “catastrophic consequences”. The two neighbours came close to a nuclear exchange in 2019 after an attack on the Indian military in Kashmir, and prompt international intervention led by the United States cooled tensions.&nbsp;
This time, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/trump-shock-wave-hits-nepal">Trump administration</a> is too distracted and not as engaged. Pakistan has denied it was responsible for the terrorist attack and called on Washington to stop a possible Indian retaliation. India and Pakistan have stopped overflights by each other’s airlines, and some international carriers have even stopped flying over Pakistan fearing an air war.
Washington, Beijing, the UN and the EU have all urged restraint. Iran, which has good relations with both India and Pakistan has sent its foreign minister to urge both countries not to go into a tit-for-tat war. Iran has its own nuclear flashpoint to worry about with tensions in Israel, &nbsp;Yemen and Syria.
India and Pakistan both share similar problems of joblessness, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/why-nepal-s-poverty-rate-is-stuck">poverty </a>and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/climate-change-new-threat-to-nepal-s-rhinos">environmental threats</a>. Neither side needs the threat of a senseless war, and we in the neighbourhood do not need it either.&nbsp;
Kunda Dixit
This Editorial is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.

Nukes in the neighbourhood

The streets of Patan are alive this month with lavender jacaranda trees under rain-washed skies as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-red-god-rises-again-in-patan">the chariot of Rato Matsyendranath</a> is pulled across town. This is the festival of the rain god, and inevitably the heavens opened up and pre-monsoon showers pelted the chariot as it started being pulled in Pulchok last week. Thousands of devotees, onlookers and the chariot procession organisers thronged the streets on the first day last week. The rhythmic cymbals and drums exuded a vibrant energy as the enormous four wheels turned and the chariot lurched.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051007050_81df97744db16f732a419dc1f1579d235ce3df37642b078f50b83bd4bd026688.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025051007050_81df97744db16f732a419dc1f1579d235ce3df37642b078f50b83bd4bd026688" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1503" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  The<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Red-rain-god,3141"> red rain god</a> has Hindu and Buddhist antecedents, alternatively called Bungadya and<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-gravity-defying-chariot-festival"> Karunamaya</a> — reflecting Kathmandu Valley’s syncretic mixture of the two religions.&nbsp; “Bungadya is a profoundly <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/marketing-the-intangible">intangible form of heritage</a>,” explains heritage expert Monalisa Maharjan. “It embodies traditional knowledge,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/reviving-nepal-s-craft"> artisanal skills passed down through generations</a>. Local communities and specific families have specified roles in being custodians of the heritage, ensuring their survival over the centuries.” There are many legends and stories about this annual tradition. Lichhavi king Narendra Dev is supposed to have brought Rato Matsyendranath from Assam to Kathmandu Valley to convince Guru Gorakhnath to lift a spell that created a two-year drought in Kathmandu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250510050520_347a9a398f8a9abc4a7fb4e2774fde8264cccbdce8bdab23851ab3f0e73c3e8a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250510050520_347a9a398f8a9abc4a7fb4e2774fde8264cccbdce8bdab23851ab3f0e73c3e8a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1503" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  Matsyendranath was Gorakhnath’s mentor, and upon seeing him, the serpents were released, unleashing the rains. The chariot festival honours the return of this life-giving rain. The deity is seen as an icon for thriving agriculture, t<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/before-the-next-monsoon">he arrival of monsoon</a> showers, and the welfare of the community. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-reign-of-the-god-of-rain">The reign of the god of rain</a>, Vidhu Prakash Kayastha Till this day, the Rato Matsyendranath festival is no ordinary celebration. Patan does not sleep for a month as the chariot is pulled through various neighbourhoods. It unfolds at a state level with the president (formerly the king) attending the climax of the Bhoto Jatra in Jawalakhel later this month.&nbsp; The intergenerational transmission of tradition is unique in the world, and the reason the festival is one of the most vibrant cultural expressions that thrives despite inroads of modernity. The other unique aspect is that it is a transnational festival, binding Patan with Guwahati in the Indian state of Assam.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051005058_8bc685ada13045d863b28e3eed91c931da2b510714586af6fd7eb5d1e298a24a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025051005058_8bc685ada13045d863b28e3eed91c931da2b510714586af6fd7eb5d1e298a24a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1503" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  “Unlike Nepal, where the deity commands grandeur and devotion, many in Assam are unaware of Rato Matsyendranath,” says Khagen Sharma of Gauhati University, which convened <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-assam-connection-revived">a symposium in February in Guwahati on the rain god</a>. Attending was a delegation led by Lalitpur Mayor Chiribabu Maharjan, organisers of the festival, and builders of the chariot. After the symposium, a committee was formed to explore and revive the tradition in Assam as well. Although the team had planned to visit Nepal this month, logistical challenges delayed the trip. Still, there are plans to build a Guru Matsyendranath statue in Assam to reestablish regular worship practices in the Guwahati shrine.&nbsp; The vines used to build the chariot in Patan are sourced from the jungles of Assam. But Sharma notes that in recent years unclear regulations have blocked the official import of the vines, although they are still brought to Nepal informally. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/makers-of-machhindranath,2204">chariot making</a> has also had a taste of modernisation in recent times. In the past, even a single nail or piece of steel was avoided. But over time, the wooden structure, particularly the shaft between the wheels, has been replaced with bronze. When that too proved unstable, metal clamps were introduced, which have become a pragmatic compromise.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250510050524_b2a819a5791612f14c81d30fc393dbd3f99f0c64b90a9110e8b0855d944bfa93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250510050524_b2a819a5791612f14c81d30fc393dbd3f99f0c64b90a9110e8b0855d944bfa93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="998" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  Another welcome change is the focus on safety. Builders climbing the chariot’s tower now wear harnesses and there are efforts in crowd control. The most visible change in recent years has been the involvement of Patan’s enthusiastic youth in the festival — the tradition is now passing to a new generation. Says Matsyendranath expert Vidhu Kayastha: “There is more energy, the young people in red t-shirts this year were very organised, these modern touches aren’t diluting our culture, they’re keeping it alive in new forms.” He adds, “We are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/searching-for-a-homeland-away-from-home">reconnecting with our roots</a>, we have more resources, more awareness than ever before. We must not be swept away by western values that may not serve us, and in some ways, cause more harm than good. We must revive our own culture.”&nbsp;

Divine chariot

In 2025, two seemingly disconnected acts of violence shattered the illusion of stability in the region. In March, <a href="https://www.ft.com/content/16f7f947-1e96-4206-9844-891378adc683" target="_blank">militants hijacked a passenger train</a> near the Bolan Pass in Balochistan, executing soldiers in cold blood. A month later, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/22/world/asia/kashmir-terrorist-attack.html" target="_blank">gunmen in Kashmir’s</a> Pahalgam Valley massacred tourists. 
In both Islamabad and New Delhi, <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/4/25/were-cursed-kashmiris-under-attack-across-india-after-pahalgam-killings" target="_blank">the reaction was reflexive:</a> condemn the violence, <a href="https://www.economist.com/asia/2025/04/22/india-and-pakistan-could-come-to-blows-over-kashmir" target="_blank">blame external enemies</a>, declare the situation contained. But South Asia’s leaders are not fighting terrorists alone. They are fighting the consequences of their own betrayals.
Across <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-26272897" target="_blank">Balochistan</a>, <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-south-asia-11693674" target="_blank">Kashmir</a>, <a href="https://www.crisisgroup.org/asia/south-asia/india/346-finding-way-out-festering-conflict-indias-manipur" target="_blank">Manipur</a>, and beyond, decades of <a href="https://www.amnesty.org/en/projects/enforced-disappearance-in-south-asia/" target="_blank">enforced disappearances</a>, broken promises, and brute militarisation have hollowed out the social contracts meant to hold these nations together. The grievances that drove rebellions from the 1940s through the 1990s – demands for dignity, recognition, and political agency – were never meaningfully addressed. They were buried beneath asphalt and propaganda, paved over by development projects and security checkpoints.
States may claim victory. But their victories are mirages, dissolving the moment anyone looks too closely. South Asia’s unfinished wars are not relics of a violent past. They are live ammunition, loaded into the future.
<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2025/mar/24/he-only-wanted-revenge-the-bloody-insurgency-in-balochistan-gaining-lethal-momentum" target="_blank">Balochistan</a> has been at war with Pakistan for most of its modern history. Rich in gas, minerals, and coastline, the province has been plundered for decades under the language of national development. 
Projects like the <a href="https://eastasiaforum.org/2020/11/26/pakistans-three-evils-cpec-and-good-governance/" target="_blank">China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC)</a> promise progress but deliver exclusion: minerals are mined, ports are secured, but Baloch homes are raided. 
The insurgency endures not because of foreign conspiracies, as Islamabad endlessly insists, but because the Pakistani state remains incapable of seeing its <a href="https://thebalochistanpost.net/2025/01/enforced-disappearances-in-balochistan-in-december-2024-tbp-report/" target="_blank">Baloch citizens</a> as anything other than a security problem to be managed.
In <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/ranisingh/2016/07/12/kashmir-in-the-worlds-most-militarized-zone-violence-after-years-of-comparative-calm/" target="_blank">Kashmir</a>, the Indian government claims to have <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/08/world/asia/kashmir-village-defense-committees.html" target="_blank">“normalised” the valley</a> after revoking its autonomy in 2019. It <a href="https://www.cfr.org/global-conflict-tracker/conflict/conflict-between-india-and-pakistan" target="_blank">looks a lot like occupation</a>. Soldiers outnumber local leaders, dissent is criminalised, internet shutdowns suffocate public life. Tourism campaigns and investment summits cannot erase a generation raised under curfew and surveillance.
<a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-66260730" target="_blank">Manipur’s descent into ethnic bloodshed</a> in 2023 exposed another fault line Delhi prefers to ignore. Long-simmering tensions between the Meitei and Kuki communities erupted into violence that shattered any illusions of northeastern integration. The central government’s delayed, politicised response made clear what many Manipuris had always suspected: they are citizens of India only when convenient.
Even the <a href="https://msf.org.au/rohingya-worlds-largest-stateless-population" target="_blank">Rohingya, stateless and exiled from Myanmar</a>, find themselves entangled in South Asia’s ethnonationalist calculus. Fleeing genocide, they are criminalised anew in Bangladesh and India – trapped between the countries that reject them and the memories that refuse to let them go.
South Asia’s states have excelled at suppressing rebellion. But failed at extinguishing the reasons rebellions rise in the first place. And the wars South Asia tries to forget at home have found new life abroad.
Across <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2024-06-17/modis-indian-government-accused-of-spying-silencing-critics/103974414" target="_blank">Canada, Australia, Britain, and the United States</a>, diasporic communities have become memory-keepers and, increasingly, <a href="https://www.business-standard.com/world-news/khalistan-supporters-hold-protest-outside-indian-consulate-in-vancouver-123092600087_1.html" target="_blank">the agitators</a> for the struggles their home states would rather erase.
Khalistan flags fly outside Indian consulates in Vancouver and <a href="https://www.tribuneindia.com/news/punjab/perturbed-over-waving-of-khalistani-flags-at-an-event-in-melbourne-india-warns-australia-of-khalistan-separatists-and-their-links-with-terror-groups-458320/" target="_blank">Melbourne</a>. Tamil activists march through London, demanding accountability for the <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2024/5/19/grim-reminder-sri-lankas-tamils-mark-15-years-since-end-of-civil-war" target="_blank">massacres in Mullivaikkal</a>. Kashmiri protests in Washington and New York refuse to let India’s crackdown slip into diplomatic amnesia.
For host countries, these movements pose uncomfortable questions. Freedom of expression collides with fears of extremism. Clashes erupt between communities carrying wounds that their new homelands.
Meanwhile, South Asian states pursue their adversaries across borders. India faces allegations of <a href="https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/canada-says-india-home-minister-ordered-campaign-against-sikh-activist-rcna177972" target="_blank">targeting Sikh activists for assassination in Canada</a> and the <a href="https://www.npr.org/2024/10/27/g-s1-29561/sikh-separatist-assassination-india" target="_blank">United States</a>. Pakistan continues to court Kashmiri separatists abroad while crushing Baloch dissent at home. <a href="https://apnews.com/article/sri-lanka-tamils-civil-war-dead-5b372b0bba567837c5a4d94250040e7d" target="_blank">Sri Lanka</a> lobbies furiously to brand Tamil diaspora organisations as fronts for terrorism, even as it stonewalls investigations into its own wartime atrocities.
The old insurgencies have not been defeated. They have been globalised. South Asia’s governments have long mistaken silence for stability.
In Punjab, India broke the back of the <a href="https://www.cnn.com/2023/10/06/india/india-canada-sikh-khalistan-analysis-intl-hnk/index.html" target="_blank">Khalistan insurgency</a> through brute force. The fields grew green again, the trains ran on time. But the wounds were never closed, the <a href="https://www.dw.com/en/why-is-indias-khalistan-separatist-movement-on-the-rise/a-65081729" target="_blank">movement’s heart beats</a> not in Amritsar but in Brampton and Surrey.
In Sri Lanka, the <a href="https://www.academia.edu/4738983/The_Man_Who_Destroyed_Eelam" target="_blank">military crushed the Tamil Tigers</a> with <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2011/01/17/death-of-the-tiger" target="_blank">overwhelming brutality in 2009</a>. <a href="https://www.scmp.com/week-asia/politics/article/3264148/we-want-our-children-back-sri-lankan-families-still-demanding-justice-their-missing-loved-ones" target="_blank">Tamil families still search for their missing</a>, still mourn their dead – and still organise across the diaspora for justice that remains undelivered.
In Kashmir, Delhi boasts of new <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2023/2/4/kashmir-is-bleeding-its-economy" target="_blank">highways and investment corridors</a>, showcasing the region as a trophy of unity. But when the visitors leave and the cameras are packed away, <a href="https://harvardlawreview.org/print/vol-134/from-domicile-to-dominion-indias-settler-colonial-agenda-in-kashmir/" target="_blank">the checkpoints, the raids, and the quiet despair remain.</a>
Victory parades fade. Grievance endures. Suppressing insurgency may end battles. It does not end the ideas that fueled them. In a region where <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/23/world/asia/kashmir-attack-india-pakistan.html" target="_blank">history is rarely past</a>, and memory is rarely voluntary, states that rule through repression are only ever buying time. And often, not very much.
South Asia’s unfinished wars are not accidents. They are the inevitable consequences of states that confuse conquest with consent, and erasure with reconciliation. They cannot legislate memory out of existence.
Every <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c15qyyzz89lo" target="_blank">disappeared son in Balochistan</a>, every <a href="https://medium.com/the-wvoice/the-half-widows-in-kashmir-fef80c6b88e9" target="_blank">half-widow in Kashmir</a>, every <a href="https://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/what-we-do/focus/rohingya-refugee-crisis" target="_blank">refugee child born stateless in a Rohingya camp</a> carries forward the memory of betrayal – a memory that outlives soldiers, politicians, and peace accords alike.
The region’s future will not be decided by GDP figures or infrastructure projects alone. It will be decided by whether its governments can summon the political courage to face the truths they have long suppressed – or whether they will continue down a path <a href="https://theconversation.com/india-is-using-the-g20-summit-to-further-its-settler-colonial-ambitions-in-kashmir-205166" target="_blank">where forgetting is demanded</a>, and rebellion becomes inevitable.
Shyam Tekwani is a professor at the Daniel K. Inouye Asia-Pacific Center for Security Studies in Hawaii. This <a href="https://dkiapcss.edu/nexus_articles/ghosts-at-the-border-south-asias-unfinished-wars/" target="_blank">article</a> was originally published on <a href="https://dkiapcss.edu/security-nexus/" target="_blank">DKI APCSS Security Nexus.</a> The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position of DKI APCSS, the Department of Defense, or the US Government. The appearance of external hyperlinks does not constitute endorsement by the United States Department of Defense (DoD) of the linked websites, or the information, products, or services contained therein. DoD does not exercise any editorial, security, or other control over the information you may find at these sites.

Balochistan to Kashmir

The discourse around <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepal-s-corruption-carousel">corruption in Nepal</a> is mainly about politicians and bureaucrats accepting bribes and kickbacks. The private sector usually does not get as much blame.
But the prevalent <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-crony-communism-exposed">climate of cronyism</a> in Nepal means that the politicians and businesses are often hand in glove. The private sector is generally considered to be in favour of free market competition to encourage <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-has-to-curb-corruption-before-wooing-investors">investment</a> and innovation so that wealth is generated.
But insider trading, cartelling, and conflict of interest have become a given in Nepal’s private sector, and it all happens with the blessings of the government. In fact, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-business-of-politics-in-nepal">tycoons have become legislators and politicians have become businessmen</a>.
“Such collusion kills the free market, and does not allow entrepreneurship and innovation to flourish,” says Kush Kumar Joshi, former president of the Federation of Nepal Chamber of Commerce and Industries (FNCCI).
An example of this is the Dangote Group of Nigeria, which was planning for a cement factory in Nepal. A Dangote executive told us that Nepal’s cement cartel got the government to sabotage their plans.&nbsp;
Earlier, the same cartel tried to do the same thing to the Chinese companies Hongxi and Huaxin, arguing that Nepal’s cement industry was capable of meeting domestic demand and did not require foreign investment. Ultimately, Hongxi partnered with Nepal’s Shivam and Huaxin with former FNCCI president Suraj Vaidya.
In 2019, industrialists successfully lobbied lawmakers to prevent foreign investment in agriculture by amending the Foreign Investment and Technology Transfer Act. Two years later,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/aid-rarely-aids-agriculture-in-nepal"> foreign investment in agriculture</a> was opened, but only if 75% of the products were exported.
There is a long history of local lobbyists obstructing the entry of multinationals, like J Walter Thompson advertising agency and the international shipping company Maersk. Microbreweries, which can be operated by restaurants, have been prohibited at the behest of larger beer companies. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1292">private dairy sector </a>opposed the government-owned Dairy Development Corporation when it tried to begin production in Pokhara a decade ago.
“The<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/business-as-unusual?fbclid=IwAR3qEnUrVu9pRhZU669FR1F4zF95uPJKBpbQbq-q1Bm26p7OMVw-8JBP7FU"> business sector</a> is a reflection of Nepali society and government which do not care about <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6725">ethical business practices</a>,” says former CNI president Hari Bhakta Sharma. “The environment is not conducive to the few businessmen who are honest.”
Lobbying by businesses is not unusual in a democracy, but its basic character should be for the collective good, not individual greed.
“This kind of profit-over-everything mindset is fatal for businesses. Entrepreneurs must prioritise social, worker, and customer welfare,” adds Sharma.
Industrialists have actively lobbied for the removal of policies that prevent loan misuse and require bank loans in specific areas. They have partially reversed such directives.
Until the economic slowdown, Nepal’s fastest growing industry was construction. But even there, cement and steel rod manufacturers colluded by price-fixing. Banker Parshuram Kunwar Chhetri says Nepal’s corporates just do not believe in free market principles, adding: “Their ideas go against competition benefiting consumers. It is all about price fixing, cartels and monopolies.”
Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/poor-cash-rich-nepal"> Poor cash-rich Nepal</a>, Sonia Awale
Ideologically, Nepal’s Communist parties are supposed to be against the neoliberal free market, globalisation and the ‘imperialism’ of international financial institutions like the World Bank and the IMF. But cronyism is rife there, too.
Two years ago, the FNCCI and the Confederation of Nepalese Industries (CNI) accused the IMF of interfering in Nepal's domestic economic policy after the Fund demanded economic reforms as conditions for its Extended Credit Facility.
Says economic analyst Sujeev Shakya: “How can we expect an honest and ethical business sector when we as a society tend to laud those who earn money through illicit and corrupt means rather than lament their <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/Editorial-moral,667">moral bankruptcy</a>?”
In October 2012, the Chaudhary Group’s CG Electronics warehouse in Kathmandu caught fire. A surveyor certified that the company had suffered Rs580 million damage, which was paid out by United Insurance Company.
The Commission for the Investigation of Abuse of Authority (CIAA) directed the Nepal Insurance Authority to investigate suspected insurance fraud, and found that the fire damage was actually Rs340 million.
The Patan High Court ordered Chaudhary Group to return the excess amount, a decision the company challenged in the Supreme Court. But in March, the apex court also found the Chaudhary Group guilty of insurance fraud.
Chaudhary Group's Binod Chaudhary, Nepal's only known dollar billionaire, is a Nepali Congress central committee member and MP, former president of FNCCI and founder of the CNI.
Then last February, the Central Investigation Bureau questioned Binod Chaudhary and arrested his brother Arun Chaudhary of CG Holdings over their alleged involvement in the illegal acquisition of the state-run shoe factory, following an investigative report by Ukaalo Online.
In 2021, Chaudhary and his family’s offshore business dealings landed them <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-richest-man-in-the-pandora-papers">in the Pandora Papers list</a> by the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (ICIJ) for hidden assets in Panama.
Says Krishna Khanal, assistant professor of business ethics at King’s College: “Cronyism, political collusion, and anti-competitive cartelling are routine in the private sector. There is no other objective than to make money at any cost.”
Conflict of interest is rife in Nepal’s share market. In 2023, Ghorahi Cement owned by Triveni Group issued primary shares at a premium price. There is also evidence that a river was diverted for the construction of its business tycoon Upendra Mahato’s Mediciti Hospital. Bhatbhateni owner Min Bahadur Gurung is also involved in Lalita Niwas land grab scam in Baluwatar.
Meanwhile, Shankar Group Vice President Sulabh Agrawal, former honorary consul of Kyrgyzstan, was arrested by the police during the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-uneven-covid-19-deaths">Covid-19 pandemic </a>after he was found selling 67 infrared thermometers from a vehicle with diplomatic credentials. He was later acquitted by the court for price-gouging.
Nepal’s most influential corporates were accused of evading billions in VAT by forcing invoices. Freedom Forum invoked the Right to Information to collect evidence of the involvement of CG Foods, Him Electronics of Shekhar Golchha, Morang Auto Works of Bishnu Agarwal, Sulabh Agarwal’s Jagdamba Steels, United Builders of Shakuntalal Hirachan, United Traders of Anuj Agarwal, and Min Bahadur Gurung’s Bhatbhateni Supermarket.
Most of these businessmen have held leadership positions in the FNCCI. Former FNCCI presidents Shekhar Golchha, Pashupati Murarka and Pradeep Jung Pandey, along with members of the federation's governing council Birendra Kumar Shanghai, Shashikant Agrawal, and others all have unpaid dues of Rs22 billion to Nepal Electricity Authority.&nbsp;
Former FNCCI president Chandiraj Dhakal was blacklisted by the Credit Information Bureau Nepal for non-payment of bank loans.
He had previously obtained permission to use 36 hectares of government forest land in Chandragiri for 40 years without competition, and had received an exemption to build a ropeway there. The 54th report of the Auditor General, stating that Nepal had suffered as a result of these decisions, had suggested that the state be investigated for leasing land at low rates allowing large revenue exemptions.
Another ex-FNCCI president Pradeep Jung Pandey was sentenced to prison in 2014 following a corruption case spanning three decades. Former FNCCI treasurer Gyanendra Lal Pradhan is currently facing charges of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/black-white-and-grey">money laundering </a>through insider trading.&nbsp;
Former FNCCI president Pashupati Murarka was acquitted by the special court in a corruption case, but it is still pending in the Supreme Court. His cement company was found to have exploited the environment by over-mining limestone at various times.&nbsp;
His Siddhartha Minerals was also found to have encroached forests in Palpa, following which the District Forest Office registered a criminal case against him and co-investor Manoj Kedia. Arrest warrants were issued for six people, including Murarka and Kedia, but Muraka was released on bail, while Kedia is on the run.
Current FNCCI president Chandra Prasad Dhakal during his tenure as a member of the Securities Board of Nepal (SEBON) was accused of conflict of interest in being a regulator in the sale of shares in a company that his family had invested in.&nbsp;
Dhakal is the chair of the IME Group, which owns banks, insurance, remittance companies, several cable cars and hotels, and has been embroiled in numerous ropeway-related controversies — most recently for allegedly using political connections to suppress local opposition to a<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/progress-and-or-preservation"> cable car project in Pathibhara</a>.
Another example of fraud committed in collusion with political leadership is Himalayan Reinsurance, the investors of which include prominent businessmen who have led FNCCI and CNI in the past, including Shekhar Golchha, Pashupati Murarka, Bhawani Rana, Rajesh Kumar Agrawa, Rohit Gupta, Amit Mor, Satish Mor, Shashikant Agrawal, and Sulabh Agrawal.
During <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-the-pandemic">the Covid-19 pandemic</a>, the Nepal Insurance Authority requested approval for a reinsurance company through an emergency notice, even though such a government-operated company already existed. But Himalayan Re-insurance was granted permission without any explanation as to why another reinsurance company was needed, or how it was selected out of the five companies that submitted proposals.
It was found that the Securities Registration and Issue Regulation was amended to allow this company to issue shares at a premium price, allowing the shares priced at Rs100 to be sold for Rs206. Himalayan Re-insurance raised Rs6 billion. The Companies Act stipulates that primary shares can be issued at a premium price only after three years of operation, a criteria Himalayan Re-insurance did not fulfil.
Open competition, consumer protection, worker welfare, environmental consciousness, anti-corruption, and tax responsibility are the foundations of a country’s healthy business world. But most captains of Nepal’s industry themselves do not uphold those principles.
The business community here is instead actively engaged in lobbying and colluding with the political leadership, and forcing the appointment of their candidates to lead various regulatory bodies.&nbsp;
“While the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/reviving-nepal-s-craft">new generation of entrepreneurs</a> operating in sectors linked to external markets such as IT seem sensitive to and compliant with professional codes, ethics, professionalism, and honesty are sorely lacking in Nepal’s business sector in general,” says Rameshore Khanal, former Secretary of the Ministry of Finance.
He adds: “Even those following ethical practices have been forced to seek political favours for fear of being left behind. There will thus be<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/it-does-not-pay-to-have-integrity"> no integrity in the private sector </a>until there is honesty in politics.”
Following the publication of this report in Himalkhabar, a Supreme Court judge on the condition of anonymity said: “Businessmen do not adhere to the principles of judicial independence, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/federalism-rule-of-law-and-the-judiciary">rule of law </a>and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/government-to-governance-editorial,4200">good governance</a>. They use intermediaries and political connections to approach judges and win cases. Meanwhile, nobody raises these issues in public.” &nbsp;

land-rights-movement

The Karjahi Movement

Nukes in the neighbourhood

Divine chariot

Balochistan to Kashmir

Nepal's only growth industry: private sector corruption